This is the note I am leaving my parents.
You may need to zoom in.
This blog has nothing to do with the Golden Buckeye Card, which provides discounts to elderly Ohioans. The title derives from my being from Ohio and moving to California. I am a 26-year-old man with a bachelor’s degree in political science and vocational degree in broadcasting. I dropped out of school for a while, which is why I just graduated, and for years I have struggled to find my calling, vocation, purpose, direction, whatever you want to call it. All the while, my parents have supported me long past the point where anyone would have forgiven them for cutting me loose. Well, I’m cutting myself loose. I couldn’t take living in their basement anymore; the guilt was killing me. Not only that, but the tug of war between the part of me that wanted to grow up to be president and the part that wanted to be a rockstar was keeping me from taking resolute steps in either direction. I finally realized that no one else was going to come along and rescue me from this purgatory, that the world was not going to give me permission to finally be who I wanted to be. I decided to stop waiting and start living my life, for better or worse. That’s why I am moving from Columbus to Los Angeles to pursue the still-somewhat-nebulous dream of becoming a musician, writer, actor, or some combination of the above. I do not know a soul within 1,000 miles of southern California and have no job lined up for when I get there. I leave in a few days. The plan is lunacy, but perhaps its riskiness accounts for all of the smaller risks I should have taken over the years but never did out of fear. This blog will follow my adventures in Tinseltown and play host to my musings on every subject imaginable. It might also serve as part of a writing portfolio for employers. Even if no one else ever reads it, though, it will serve as my journal – a sympathetic ear for a stranger in a strange land.